A Winter's Wedding

by Sharon Owens

  ‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ Emily said kindly.

  ‘It’d better be fine, for not much gets past me,’ Enid said firmly.

  ‘Well, look, if you’re serious about selling, here’s my number,’ Dylan told her. He scribbled his name and number on a piece of paper and gave it to the old woman. ‘I wouldn’t want to take advantage of you, though, just because you’re feeling sad about your friend moving away.’

  ‘Dear me, this one is a keeper,’ Enid said softly, brushing a tear from her eye. ‘I’ll tell you what. You pair come over to my house at lunchtime on Boxing Day, and I’ll show you round. The whole place needs to be gutted from top to bottom; no point lying about it. There’s a damp patch in the scullery, and the stairs creak like a sinking ship. My late husband was a terrific gardener, but he couldn’t do a scrap of DIY. Mind, I’ll knock a fair bit off the asking price, if you’re keen to do business. I don’t want a lot of fuss at my age, and I don’t want a lot of smooth-talking estate agents in fancy suits waving their clipboards in my face.’

  Emily and Dylan exchanged ecstatic glances; could it really be happening that they’d found the house of Emily’s dreams on their very first day of house-hunting?

  A few tiny snowflakes tumbled out of the darkness and settled on Enid’s collar.

  ‘Bugger it,’ Enid said.

  ‘Looks like another night of snow,’ Emily said. ‘They did say it was going to snow tonight.’

  ‘Will you be able to get home again?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘I’ll call a taxi,’ Enid said, rolling her eyes at the cost of it.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ Emily said as they helped Enid up the steps of Ida’s house.

  ‘Yes, here we are. And that settles it,’ Enid said sharply.

  ‘That settles what?’ Dylan said.

  ‘I’m not spending one more winter shivering in that house. The home where Ida’s going is like a furnace day and night. I’m going to ring them tomorrow and ask if there’s another room going spare. The wallpaper would make you weep, it’s that bland. But at least the heat will keep my arthritis at bay. Don’t forget to call round on Boxing Day, though, for when I decide to do something, I don’t hang about.’

  23. All that Glitters

  On Christmas Eve Dylan was very jittery and jumpy. All day long he was looking at his watch and forgetting to finish cups of tea. Emily knew there was something going on with him, but she didn’t like to ask in case he was thinking about Enid’s house.

  She supposed he was having second thoughts about having to work as an accountant so that he could afford the mortgage. But she knew that if the price was too high, they could always decline to put in an offer – and then Dylan wouldn’t have to sell his soul in some anonymous accounting firm in the City. She knew she would survive losing the pretty little house. After all, it looked gorgeous from the outside, but Enid had told them it was falling apart on the inside. And perhaps it was too soon for them to be moving in together or buying a house. But then she had a vision of herself and Dylan, sitting on two deckchairs in the little yard, pouring wine beside the tulips and daffodils, and she almost had a giddy spell of her own.

  In the afternoon they went shopping for small but exciting gifts for Emily’s mum and dad. They both knew Dylan could have chipped in with a contribution, but Emily wanted to pay for the gifts. And subconsciously they were both thinking of the deposit on Enid’s little terrace. They had such a lovely time trawling the shops for last-minute bargains, they barely noticed the time passing. Then Emily spent two hours wrapping everything beautifully in textured white paper, adding long white ribbon curls and perfect white glitter swirls to the petite parcels. She made a little tower of gifts on each parent’s plate, then wrote out their names on pieces of crisp white card. Meanwhile, Dylan prepared the vegetables for dinner the following day, did a quick tidy of the flat, phoned his family and made a large plate of chicken sandwiches. They had decided not to cook on Christmas Eve, as they didn’t want to mess up the kitchen.

  ‘They’ll love all this,’ Dylan said approvingly when everything was finally ready.

  ‘Do you know, I think they will,’ Emily smiled.

  ‘Shall we watch TV in here this evening?’ Dylan said, handing Emily a mug of piping hot tea. ‘Give the bed a rest?’

  ‘If you like,’ Emily smiled.

  ‘It’s snowing again,’ Dylan grimaced. ‘But it’s wet-looking snow; I don’t think it’s going to lie for long. I’ll pick up your parents tomorrow, anyway, and bring them over. I know your mum doesn’t like the cold.’

  ‘Thanks, love. You’ve been so good about looking after them. They’re having a great time over here; I haven’t seen them for a week. I think they went into town today to spot celebrities on the red carpet at some premiere or other. They might go shopping too, spending the money Jake sent with the Christmas card.’

  ‘Good man,’ Dylan nodded.

  ‘I’ll just get my fleece,’ Emily said then. ‘It’s so cold in here with these high ceilings.’

  ‘Could you fetch my sweater while you’re in the bedroom?’ he said casually. ‘It’s in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Sure.’

  But when Emily opened the wardrobe door she couldn’t see any sweaters, or even any clothes. All she could see was a small grey velvet box, sitting all alone in the bottom of the wardrobe.

  It must be a pair of cufflinks or something, she thought to herself.

  She closed the wardrobe door again and started hunting for Dylan’s sweater under the bed and in the wicker hamper. But then it dawned on her.

  ‘Is this a ring for me?’ she whispered. ‘No, it can’t be for me …’

  But then she remembered what Dylan had said about not being able to see a happy future for himself without her in it. She went back to the wardrobe and opened the door with trembling hands. She lifted out the little velvet box and held it in her hands for a minute before gently prising open the spring-loaded lid. A diamond engagement ring winked back at her. Quite a large diamond.

  ‘No, it can’t be for me,’ she said again.

  For how did she know this ring was for her? It could just be a family heirloom or something. But then again, Dylan knew only too well the significance of Emily’s wardrobe and what it had symbolized. All of her past had been stored within its ancient dusty heart. Now the wardrobe was empty, and Emily’s future was a blank page just waiting to be filled. Was Dylan offering to co-write Emily’s future?

  ‘Will you marry me?’ he said, appearing in the doorway.

  ‘Oh!’ Emily gasped.

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘How long have you been standing there?’

  ‘Long enough to start to wonder if you’re going to turn me down …’

  ‘Is this ring really for me?’

  ‘Yes, it is … if you want it. Will you marry me, please? I’ll be good to you always, I promise.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve proposed!’

  ‘I love you, Emily,’ he said, crossing the floor in two strides and holding Emily in his arms as if he would never let her go.

  ‘I love you too,’ she said.

  ‘So it’s a yes?’ he said.

  ‘I do love you very much,’ she said.

  ‘But you think it’s too soon?’ he asked.

  ‘Not too soon, no. Well, maybe just a little too soon,’ she conceded.

  ‘But we’re perfect together.’

  ‘Yes, we are, aren’t we?’

  ‘Of course we are!’

  ‘And you’re not just asking me to marry you because you feel sorry for me?’

  ‘Why would I feel sorry for you, you dope?’

  ‘Because Alex stood me up,’ she said.

  ‘That guy didn’t deserve you,’ Dylan said, kissing her tenderly.

  ‘Can I have a few days to think about it?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Yes, but I’m a bit hurt you need to think about it,’ he said.

  ‘Well, it’s not that I need to think about it as such.
I just want to enjoy the moment,’ she explained.

  ‘Okay,’ Dylan said, letting her go and walking over to the window.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dylan. It’s just that I’ve worked so hard to get used to being on my own. I never thought I’d be getting married – ever! And then you come along and sweep me off my feet, and you’ve been so good to me … My emotions haven’t quite caught up.’

  Dylan nodded, as if he understood. But then he said he remembered something he had to do at the shop, put on his coat and went out. Emily was left alone to consider her beautiful engagement ring. And it didn’t take her too long to realize that the flat seemed horribly empty without Dylan in it. Yes, getting married was a big step. But she was ready for it.

  If she wasn’t ready to trust Dylan now, after all the things he had done for her, she never would be.

  Throwing on her own jacket, she raced over to the shop to tell him she would love to marry him.

  The rest of the evening passed by in a delicious, happy, hopeful haze.

  Emily didn’t phone all her friends to tell them the good news. She wanted to keep this precious moment just for herself and Dylan. She wanted to remember always this wonderful Christmas Eve with the diamond flashing on her engagement finger and the snow falling silently all across the city. She wanted to remember the delicate white Christmas tree and the two little bundles of white-wrapped gifts on a perfectly tidy table. She wanted to savour the peace and quiet of the city as it counted down the last few hours until Christmas Day. And, most of all, she wanted to bask in the warmth of a stable and supportive relationship – without all the doubt and drama she was used to.

  ‘Are you happy?’ Dylan asked her as they fell into bed sometime after midnight.

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she said simply.

  ‘I’ll apply for jobs the first Monday after the holidays,’ he told her.

  ‘So you’re serious about buying Enid’s house?’

  ‘Of course I am. Do you still want it?’

  ‘With all my heart. But only if you want it too,’ she said.

  ‘I’m okay with any style of home,’ he yawned. ‘We can’t realistically afford anything bigger right now, anyway.’

  ‘I hope we get the house and never leave it,’ Emily said happily. ‘We can always convert the loft, and add a conservatory-kitchen at the back.’

  ‘True,’ he agreed.

  ‘It’s a lovely street,’ she added.

  ‘Do you remember the day we met?’ he said then.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It was Christmas Eve,’ he said.

  ‘I know. I was de-cluttering this place,’ Emily smiled. ‘Who’d have thought Arabella’s pasta maker would have brought us together? And now we’re engaged, Arabella is getting divorced, my parents have become house-sitters, you’re going to be an accountant – and we might be buying Enid’s house.’

  ‘I know; it’s strange the way things happen sometimes. Well, merry Christmas, baby!’ he said, kissing her softly on the lips.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ she replied.

  And, snuggled under several layers of blankets and duvets, they quickly fell asleep.

  24. The Wicked Fairy

  ‘Hi there, how did the holidays go, my darling?’ Arabella asked, breezing into the magazine offices and dropping a heavy stack of rival magazines on to her desk. ‘I don’t know about you, but I was half starved in that damn spa. Nothing but fruit and muesli for three days straight; I could absolutely murder a latte and a strawberry muffin, actually.’

  ‘No problem. I’ll run down to Starbucks for you now,’ Emily said brightly, finishing off a short article on her computer. ‘I might treat myself to a sandwich too. I fancy something with lots of cheese in it.’

  But as Emily reached for her coat, her engagement ring caught the light and Arabella did a double-take.

  ‘Wait a minute, Miss Reilly. Is that a sparkler I see on your finger? Nobody mentioned an engagement to me on my way through the office.’

  ‘Indeed it is! I was just about to tell you! Oh, Arabella, we got engaged on Christmas Eve; it was so romantic,’ Emily said happily. ‘I haven’t told anyone yet. I was going to tell them all at lunchtime. You know, after they’ve had time to settle back in to work?’

  ‘Show me the ring,’ Arabella commanded.

  Emily held out her hand obediently.

  ‘It’s huge,’ Arabella said quietly, and her face darkened like the sky just before a summer storm. ‘I do hope it’s insured, petal? Better not wear it, if you go into any dodgy areas.’

  ‘I never thought of that,’ Emily faltered. ‘Thanks for the advice.’

  ‘Don’t mention it; I don’t want my best features writer to get her poor little engagement finger ripped right off by feral drug addicts, now do I?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ Emily said, thinking of Sarah Diamond. ‘I’ll go and get you that latte.’

  ‘Thanks, darling.’

  Arabella didn’t seem to notice that Emily was on the verge of tears.

  ‘Emily, are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ Arabella asked suddenly.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, you’ve only known Dylan a year. Are you sure you know him well enough to marry him? Or is this going to be one of those tediously long engagements?’ Arabella asked, flicking on her computer and tapping some keys impatiently.

  Emily was lost for words. She knew Arabella was still hurting after David’s departure to Italy with his new family, and she knew Arabella was trying to put a brave face on the loss of her gorgeous Chelsea town house, but her attitude this morning was downright frosty.

  ‘Oh, I think we’ll muddle through,’ Emily said tightly. ‘He’s not got any illusions about me, and I think he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met. We haven’t set a date yet, but it’s going to be within the next twelve months. Definitely.’

  ‘And how will you pay for this dream wedding of yours?’ Arabella asked briskly.

  ‘Dylan’s job-hunting as we speak. And it won’t be a dream wedding, or anything of the sort. You know it won’t be a big wedding, Arabella. It’s going to be a tiny affair, whenever it happens – just a handful of close friends at the nearest registry office.’

  ‘Not a church wedding?’

  ‘No, and I’m not going to wear a full-length wedding gown. We might not even have a formal reception. I thought a couple of tables in a nice restaurant would be fine.’

  ‘Cheap and cheerful, huh?’ was Arabella’s dismissive reply.

  ‘Of course, it’ll be cheap and cheerful … just like me,’ Emily said, allowing a touch of sarcasm into her voice.

  ‘Hey, I know! You could get married wearing chimney sweep’s outfits, and then go to Burger King for the reception.’

  ‘Maybe we will, Arabella. Maybe we’ll get married on a London bus and hand out packets of crisps to the other passengers.’

  But Arabella didn’t answer. She was busy trawling through her emails for anything remotely interesting.

  Emily picked up her coat and bag, and walked quietly out of the office. Her hands were shaking with anger, but she couldn’t bear to start a row with Arabella on their first day back at work after the Christmas holidays. She had never known Arabella to be so hurtful and cruel. Arabella knew Emily was heavily in debt. So how could they afford a big wedding? And she knew Dylan was a good man. So why had she expressed doubts about him?

  And things had been going so well for them all at work too. The de-cluttering booklet Emily had designed for the January issue had been a massive success; they’d sold by far the most copies ever of the magazine last month. And the Jeremy Cavendish feature was destined to catapult Stylish Living to the top of the league in the interiors publishing scene worldwide. A gay MP and his artist-designer lover; it was interiors gold. Jane Maxwell’s relationship with her TV mogul was going so well, there was even talk of Jane relocating to LA and becoming their North American correspondent. (Good old Jane knew this was her only hope of getting invited to lots
of ‘A’ list pads.)

  So why the hell was Arabella on such a downer?

  ‘I won’t give her a fight,’ Emily told herself as she pushed open the door of Starbucks and inhaled the swoony aroma of coffee, cream and chocolate. ‘I won’t be her punching bag.’

  There was a very long queue at the counter. Emily estimated she’d have to wait about twenty minutes or more to reach the front of the line.

  ‘Well, serve Arabella right,’ she said to herself. ‘Let her starve back there. And then maybe she’ll think twice about what she said to me.’

  But when Emily returned to the offices Arabella’s mood seemed to have become even worse. She didn’t say thank you when Emily set her snacks in front of her, or offer to pay for them.

  Emily shrugged off her coat and flung it over the back of her chair.

  ‘So are you going to move the Sun King into your Twickenham love nest?’ Arabella asked absent-mindedly as she sorted through the backlog of snail mail in her in tray. ‘Or is he taking you to live with him in some fairy-tale castle in the clouds? Don’t tell me he’s secretly worth millions and only working in that charity place for a laugh? Don’t tell me he’s minted up to the eyeballs and was only pretending his folks muck out cattle for a living?’

  ‘Okay, what’s the deal with you today?’ Emily said carefully.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Arabella, whatever is the matter with you? I didn’t get engaged just to annoy you, you know. I didn’t get engaged just to rub your nose in it. You seem positively spooked by my engagement. And I’ve no idea why.’

  ‘I am not one bit spooked. How funny you are! I think it’s very sweet and lovely,’ Arabella soothed.

  She didn’t look up at Emily. Emily’s breath was coming out in small gasps of rage.