A Winter's Wedding

by Sharon Owens

  ‘Oh, Emily,’ Dylan said again, wrapping his big strong arms around her.

  Then he kissed her softly on the lips. It was a serious-about-you sort of kiss. Emily’s eyes were moist with tears.

  ‘I don’t think you have moved on,’ he said softly. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Well, I want to move on,’ she said defiantly.

  ‘And I want you,’ he replied.

  Arabella phoned her solicitor for the sixth time that week to see if there had been any developments in her case.

  ‘There is nothing to report as yet. We said we would let you know if anything happened, Mrs Harrington,’ the solicitor told her patiently.

  ‘So he hasn’t been in touch? Really, not even an email? I can’t believe he hasn’t been in touch yet,’ Arabella said.

  ‘After the baby is born, maybe?’

  ‘But he’ll be even busier then.’

  ‘I think we should give it another while. I’ll turn up the heat in May or June.’

  ‘I can’t believe he hasn’t called you. It’s like he’s trying to deny I exist,’ Arabella said darkly.

  ‘People sometimes react like that, by going into denial until they’re ready to deal with the issues.’

  ‘But I forward all his personal mail to the office, so he can’t have forgotten me completely. He’s still paying the mortgage on our house.’

  ‘Yes, and that’s all good news. It shows that he’s aware of his responsibilities.’

  ‘What about his responsibility to me? This is ludicrously unfair.’

  ‘Mrs Harrington, please don’t concern yourself any further. We’ll discuss a divorce just as soon as the baby is born and your husband can concentrate on other matters.’

  Other matters, Arabella thought to herself.

  That’s all she was to David nowadays: other matters.

  At the beginning of June Arabella’s solicitor finally summoned her to his office, and told her that David had agreed to a divorce. Arabella was very upset – even when she was informed that David was signing over his share of the equity in their home to her, along with a very generous cash settlement. It would be enough to pay off the mortgage. David had told the solicitor he wanted a clean break with no protracted negotiations, and that he wished to have no further communication with Arabella.

  ‘All you have to do is sign these papers,’ the solicitor said, sliding them across the desk towards her and offering her a pen.

  ‘I still feel kind of short-changed,’ Arabella said, looking over the papers and accepting a cup of tea. ‘I just wish I knew why he left me.’

  ‘Do you want me to give you some details about David’s situation?’

  ‘Might as well.’

  ‘We had a civilized little chat, actually. David said he was very sorry to have hurt you the way he did, but he had fallen in love with a woman called Mary Barone. And he didn’t feel able to tell you about it.’

  ‘That figures; I’d have stabbed him.’

  ‘Quite … He said he hadn’t planned to have an affair, but when it began he could do nothing to prevent it,’ the solicitor added.

  ‘Bully for him,’ Arabella said.

  ‘And there’s more. David and Mary are now the proud parents of twin girls named Venice and Paris.’

  ‘They had twins? Venice and Paris … oh, my word … what silly names, actually …’

  ‘And so David and Mary want to get married just as soon as they are legally free to do so. And then they are moving to Italy to live.’

  Arabella just nodded. Barone was an Italian name, and that would explain the woman’s good looks.

  ‘Mary is Italian – she wants to bring up the children there.’

  ‘Yes, I see. I figured that.’

  ‘The glass house by the river is a rental. They are currently on a month’s holiday in Cornwall.’

  ‘There was no mention of how long the affair had been going on before the pregnancy happened?’ Arabella asked.

  ‘No mention of that, no. Mary was one of the secretaries where David worked.’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘She’s a full-time mum now.’

  ‘I see,’ Arabella said again.

  But considering the settlement David was offering, the solicitor advised Arabella to accept the terms right away. She had no children to support and a very good career of her own, so getting the house in Twickenham was a very good outcome indeed.

  ‘Fifteen years together,’ Arabella whispered. ‘Fifteen years together. And suddenly he doesn’t wish to communicate further. Fancy that.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Harrington. I’d advise you to accept this deal now, as Mr Harrington may not be feeling quite so generous in the years to come. I hear it’s not as cheap as it used to be, living in Europe. We’re expecting a rush of expats wanting to return to the UK and chucking out their sitting tenants before the leases are even up.’

  Arabella signed the divorce papers, and then left the solicitor’s office without speaking another word. Outside the sun was shining brightly and the streets were full of people enjoying the weather. Arabella felt as if she had left her own body and was floating six feet above the footpath. She felt as if she would never be happy again. She caught the Tube and walked along the river to David’s rented house. She went round the back of the house, broke in using a brick she found lying beside the garden shed, and stood in the middle of the sitting room, wondering what to do next. And while she was thinking about it, she got out her cigarettes and lighter. The house was quite untidy and smelt of garlic, red wine and baby powder.

  It was a very happy sort of house – and Arabella couldn’t bear it.

  Dylan and Emily were relaxing on the sofa in Emily’s flat. It was late at night and the television was switched off. The only light came from some scented candles flickering on the coffee table. They were sharing half a bottle of Chenin Blanc.

  ‘I think I love you, Emily,’ he said suddenly.

  Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I do not say it to all the girls. I’m not like that; you must know it by now. I’m no Casanova. I mean it, Emily.’

  ‘Do you really mean it?’ she asked, noticing a definite surge in hormones somewhere near her stomach.

  ‘Yes, I never say things I don’t mean,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve never felt like this before; I’ve never cared about anyone this much before.’

  Then he kissed her tenderly. And somehow, despite his general gorgeousness and her general feelings of self-doubt, Emily believed him.

  ‘Have you ever been in love before?’ she asked him nervously.

  ‘Yes, I have,’ he said, gazing up at the ceiling. ‘But it didn’t last.’

  ‘Why not, if you don’t mind me asking … ?’

  ‘Rachel was her name. We got on really well. But she wanted more from life – a better career for me in banking, a better address for us both, and that sort of thing.’

  ‘And you loved her?’

  ‘Yes, I did, very much.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you stay in banking and give her the life she wanted?’

  ‘Because I hated every minute of it, that’s why. It was driving me round the twist, just making money like a robot – more and more and more money. Never enough money, though. No matter how many hours of overtime you’d put in, it was never enough for them. Endless meetings and endless phone calls, endless back-slapping and endless talk of bonuses; it gets very dull after a while, believe me. Not a thought to the morality of it all, Emily. Not a worry for the savers and investors who might lose out, or a care for the workers being paid a rubbish wage in other countries. I knew the whole thing would come crashing down eventually, it couldn’t go on the way it was … So I told Rachel I was getting out. And she told me she was leaving me; it was as simple as that. We did part as friends, though.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And no, I am not still secretly in love with her.’

  ‘
Ha! Fair enough, I’ve always found managing money very boring myself. It does seem to be a rather stressful occupation. Arabella’s husband, David, was a stockbroker. I mean, he is a stockbroker. I mean, her ex-husband is a stockbroker and he’s very clever and very wealthy. But she hardly saw him in recent years, because he spent so much time at the office.’

  ‘Did you say her ex-husband?’

  ‘Yes. Look, it’s still a big secret at work, but they’ve split up. David and Arabella are living apart, and that’s why I’ve been so busy at work lately. He’s met another girl and she’s having his baby. I’ve been covering for Arabella when she’s been at home crying all day.’

  ‘Poor Arabella …’

  ‘Yes, poor Arabella! Now, remember – tell nobody about this, in case you tell somebody who knows somebody at Stylish Living. Because Arabella would die if this got out. She would honestly die.’

  ‘She can’t pretend she’s married for the next fifty years.’

  ‘She can. Trust me.’

  ‘Right, okay, I won’t say anything if we bump into each other.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll be relieved when this is all over. David didn’t give her a reason for leaving her, you see.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yes, wow. So Arabella can’t analyse what went wrong with their marriage – because she didn’t change over the years, and neither did David. She’s stuck in a kind of limbo. Maybe when they divorce she’ll start to get over him. I don’t know anyone who’s happily married,’ Emily said.

  ‘My parents are very happy,’ Dylan said at once. ‘Still like moonstruck teenagers, they are. Cuddling all the time; it’s ridiculous.’

  ‘What’s their secret? I wonder.’

  ‘Being nice to each other, Dad says. They’re just nice to each other.’

  ‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ Emily said.

  ‘Your parents are still together too? Not ideal parents to you, possibly, but they’re still together?’ Dylan said.

  ‘Yes, but I think that’s only because they can’t be bothered filling out the forms to ask for another council house,’ Emily said dryly. ‘And Mum would never get around to packing up all her stuff, and Dad doesn’t know how to open a can of beans.’

  Dylan decided to leave it there for the time being.

  ‘You know, I really think we’ve got something special going here, Emily. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, I promise you. I know that’s such an awful old cliché to say to a girl, but in my case it is true. I’ve fallen for you in a big, big way.’

  ‘You say the nicest things.’

  ‘Have you ever been in love before? Like, really madly in love?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ she told him. ‘Not even close.’

  She snuggled up to him then and closed her eyes, breathing in the delicious scent of his peppery aftershave. As if on cue Emily’s mobile phone began to ring.

  ‘I’d better answer that,’ she said. ‘It might be Arabella. Oh, it is her.’

  ‘I’ll give you some privacy,’ Dylan said, going into the kitchen to wash their empty wine glasses.

  ‘Hello, Arabella?’ Emily said.

  ‘Emily, sweetheart, I know it’s really late. But can you do me a massive favour?’

  ‘Of course I can. Where are you? Are you in a bar somewhere? How did the meeting go today at the solicitor’s? Do you need a lift or something?’

  ‘I’m fine, I don’t need a lift. The thing is, I need to get away for a few days,’ Arabella said.

  ‘Well, okay. But why?’ Emily said.

  ‘I just need some time out, that’s all. And that’s why I need you to get into the office nice and early tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why do you think? Can you take over for me until I get back? I’m giving you full authority, Emily, and you can fire Jane Maxwell if she gives you any nonsense. No need to call me for advice, and so on. I’ll be in touch. Bye.’

  ‘Arabella, wait a minute,’ Emily said. But Arabella was gone. ‘For pity’s sake, what’s going on now?’ Emily said loudly.

  She tossed her mobile into her handbag and sat with her face in her hands.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Dylan said, coming back and kneeling down on the floor beside Emily.

  ‘Arabella’s going away somewhere. She didn’t say where. And I’m to take over for a while. And that’ll be a complete laugh, because Jane Maxwell is no fan of mine,’ Emily said crossly.

  Then she burst into noisy tears. Dylan held Emily gently in his arms until she had stopped crying.

  ‘What’s the problem, Emily? Arabella’s promoting you.’

  ‘Yes, I know that. But this is so weird, because Arabella just lives for her job. It’s so unlike her to go away like this. And let me take over the magazine? Or let anyone take over the magazine? She’s usually such a control freak. It’s just so strange. I know I held that one meeting, but this seems open-ended.’

  ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said tenderly. ‘Arabella will be okay. Anybody can act a little strange from time to time. It happens to the best of us. There’s no law against it.’

  ‘I know,’ Emily said. ‘I’m fully aware of that. But I’m not a major fan of strange. That’s why I came to London in the first place, do you see? To get away from strange. Oh no, I hope Arabella isn’t going to go and attack David or something.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, she’d never do that,’ Dylan smiled.

  ‘She might.’

  ‘She wouldn’t.’

  ‘You don’t know Arabella the way I do,’ Emily said darkly.

  8. In the Mood

  Dylan didn’t set out to seduce Emily that night, and she didn’t intend to seduce him either. But within minutes of Arabella’s unsettling, late-night phone call they were tearing each other’s clothes off and making love furiously on the sitting-room floor.

  It all happened very suddenly. Emily was getting up to repair her make-up, after her crying had made her mascara run again, when she tripped over Dylan’s ankles, landing on top of him quite heavily. In the resulting tangle of arms and cushions, Emily’s T-shirt rode right up and Dylan caught a glimpse of her polka-dot balcony bra. Emily realized at once that he’d seen it, and that he was very turned on. And seeing just how much he fancied her did something magical for Emily’s libido in return. They were alone, it was late, they were both consenting adults, and for once in her life Emily decided to be spontaneous. The poor guy had waited long enough to see her without her clothes on – almost six months. Nowadays if a nice man was prepared to wait for six months before making love to his girlfriend, it was so romantic it was almost newsworthy.

  ‘Are you in the mood, by any chance?’ she asked him, biting her lip with anticipation.

  ‘I’m always in the mood when you’re around,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘Well, then. What are you waiting for?’ she said playfully. ‘I’m all yours.’

  Five seconds later, they were undoing each other’s jeans. Emily was so glad she’d worn her most expensive lingerie that evening. It had come from a designer boutique, the result of a recent gift voucher from Arabella. Good old Arabella – her gifts weren’t all unwieldy kitchen gadgets, Emily thought happily. And when it came right down to it, wasn’t modelling balcony bras and French knickers a far better way to spend one’s time than winding endless lengths of pasta through a mini-mangle?

  But soon the very expensive designer lingerie had been discarded by Dylan, as if it had just come from the bargain bin at Primark. He didn’t even notice the labels as he peeled the delicate items from Emily’s trembling body and dropped them on to the wooden floor. Then he pulled off his plain black shorts, and Emily could see he definitely wasn’t lying about always being in the mood. As for Dylan’s naked body – well, Emily was incredibly impressed. All his recent extra sports training certainly hadn’t gone to waste.

  ‘You’re gorgeous,’ she said before she could stop herself.

  ‘Ha, thanks! But guys can’t be gorgeous
in the way that women are – the way you are,’ he replied gallantly.

  ‘Yes, they can.’

  She kissed him softly on the lips as he eased the ponytail out of her hair.

  ‘I’ve never slept with an editor before,’ Dylan said mischievously.

  ‘So you’re only with me for the power?’ she laughed.

  ‘Not just the power,’ he replied in a serious voice, ‘but also for a free ticket to the next Ideal Home Show.’

  ‘You can have all the free tickets you want,’ Emily said, laughing again as Dylan pulled her down on top of him and lovingly caressed her body all over.

  She began to have tingly feelings in places she’d never had them before. Even in the backs of her knees. And for once she wasn’t embarrassed by her modest cleavage. For once she felt truly sexy and attractive and comfortable with what was going on. Even when she’d been with Alex, she’d never felt this sexy – or, indeed, this happy.

  Then Dylan flinched with pain as his heel came down sharply on the plug from Emily’s mobile phone charger.

  ‘Usually I prefer to do this kind of thing in a bed; it’s a lot safer,’ he said.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, pulling him up and leading him into her bedroom. ‘It’s always cold in this flat, even in summer.’

  They fell into bed, kissing again, and Emily thought she would die if they didn’t make love in the next five minutes.

  ‘Have you got a thingy?’ she asked breathlessly.

  ‘Whatever do you mean.’ He laughed.

  ‘You know what I mean. Protection …’

  ‘Just so happens I have,’ he laughed, racing back to his jeans pocket to retrieve one.

  Emily watched his perfect bum as he went. It was so firm it didn’t even wobble. She was tempted to nip out of bed herself and put on some more mascara and perfume, but there wasn’t time. And since Dylan hadn’t stopped to admire the lingerie, he probably wouldn’t notice a little bit of mascara or perfume either. She lay down and tried to relax. And tried not to faint when she saw him coming back to bed; he was truly gorgeous from top to toe.

  He kissed her again, all over, and Emily just gave herself up to the moment. She let Dylan lead the way and prayed that the retired couple in the flat below were already in a deep sleep and unlikely to hear her various expressions of ecstasy.