Free A Winter's Wedding by Sharon Owens

at it.’
    They all burst out laughing again. Emily wasn’t considered prudish, but the way she was cringing at the pictures of Daisy was truly hilarious.
    And so the button-maker’s cottage was selected for the cover, all other business was duly conducted, and the staff and various contributors were very happy. Everyone had something of theirs included in the next issue. And Emily had selected two of Jane’s other shoots for upcoming editions. Unfortunately for Daisy Churchill, though, her feature didn’t even make the grade for the bathroom supplement. Petra was right: they simply couldn’t hand Daisy twelve pages of free publicity when she hadn’t even gone to the trouble of buying a second-hand teaspoon to fit in with the image of the magazine. They would be a laughing stock in the magazine industry if they used her.
    ‘Thanks, everyone. Thanks so much for bearing with me today. I think Arabella will love what we’ve done,’ Emily said gratefully when the meeting ended. Then she rushed straight to her phone. The printing company was given the necessary instructions just minutes before the cover deadline.
    Meanwhile, the other pages were digitally composed and finalized by the layout team on the floor below. Emily phoned around to cancel the advertisers’ lunch, sent flowers to their offices, and finally dashed over to Arabella’s house to check that she hadn’t bled to death.
    ‘Come in, dear Emily; it’s so good to see a friendly face,’ Arabella chirped gratefully. She was still clutching the bloody towel to her arm.
    ‘You didn’t kill him, did you? He’s not buried under the patio?’ Emily asked when she saw the state of the place.
    Every vase and ornament in the house had been thrown, broken or smashed to pieces. At least one window pane was cracked. Arabella was all cried out, with big dark circles beneath her twinkling brown eyes. And her perfect bob was tousled and greasy.
    The two women stood facing each other beside the fireplace.
    ‘You poor love. It’ll be okay,’ Emily said uselessly.
    ‘No, it’s all over,’ Arabella wept.
    She did look terrible. Emily guessed Arabella had been up all night, drinking wine and venting her anger on the furniture.
    ‘He’ll come back again,’ Emily soothed, giving her friend a hug.
    ‘No, he won’t come back. I know it. We said some awful things to one another, Emily – unforgivable things. Well, mostly it was me saying the unforgivable things. But he didn’t look all that bothered. I think he doesn’t care about me any more, one way or the other. That’s worse than hating me, isn’t it?’
    Emily shrugged. She supposed that it was. But what could she say? ‘You’re a strong lady, you’ll get over him,’ she said.
    ‘No, I’ve ruined everything,’ Arabella sobbed quietly.
    ‘Right, you go and get tidied up,’ Emily told her friend gently.
    ‘What for? What’s the point of being glamorous, anyway?’ Arabella asked dramatically. ‘Nobody cares how I look.’
    ‘Nonsense; we all admire your style in the office. Anyway, it’s for yourself, for your own self-esteem,’ Emily said firmly.
    ‘Sensible Emily to the rescue once again,’ Arabella laughed sadly. ‘If I knew how to make a trumpet noise – like in those films where the cavalry appears on the horizon – I’d make one right now.’
    ‘I’m serious. You’ll feel so much better after you’ve had a hot shower and brushed your teeth and put on fresh clothes,’ Emily said kindly.
    ‘Will you make me some tea first? I’m parched,’ Arabella said, flopping on to the sofa. ‘All that wine has left me really dehydrated.’
    ‘Yes, of course I will.’
    ‘And a nice tomato sandwich with salad cream?’
    ‘Yes, surely, if that’s what you want.’
    ‘And will you take me out somewhere later and get me blitzed?’
    ‘No, I will not,’ Emily said. ‘You need to rest your arm.’
    ‘Never mind my arm. I want to get so drunk I fall over in the street,’ Arabella said