Free Tuesdays at the Teacup Club by Vanessa Greene

Perhaps inevitably, the scales had fallen from her eyes a little since then.
    ‘How’s your day going, Chlo?’ I asked as I filled her cup.
    Her wide, mascaraed eyes met mine – a flash of barely concealed irritation there. ‘Slow start today … Gary’s got me working
     out a spreadsheet of his expenses that is taking an age. He said he needs it, but I feel like he’s just monopolising my time;
     he knows how much I want to be writing features. Do you know what I mean?’
    ‘I guess so,’ I said. But I didn’t understand her frustration, not really. The truth was I liked spreadsheets. There was nothing
     better, I thought, than creating order from chaos – the only big project I wanted was my wedding. It made me feel happy knowing
     everyone in the office had the resources they needed, and reliable, efficient admin systems. Of course I knew that most of
     the junior staff couldn’t wait to get stuck in to feature writing, or build up their skills in design and page layout; but
     for me the joy of letting someone know that their stack of neon-coloured Post-Its had arrived was sometimes enough.
    I did my best to put myself in Chloe’s shoes: she was smart, dedicated, aimed high and anyone could see she’d be more than
     capable of overtaking Gary given half a chance. ‘Chloe, you’ll get there – I reckon he’s just testing you, don’t you think?’
    ‘Yep, you’re probably right,’ she replied. ‘But enough about me, Jen,’ she waved her hand, changing the subject, ‘I’m just
     in a Monday mood, you know how it is, brilliant weekend and then reality bites. Cheer me up – how’s Dan? How’s the wedding
     planning going?’
    It was pathetic really but just the mention of Dan was enough to make me smile. Chloe had always been surprisingly tolerant
     of my soppiness. ‘Dan’s great – we spent most of the weekend at home, mainly deciding on the table plan.’
    To be honest Dan had done a lot of this on the sofa with his eyes closed – but his company had still meant something and,
     well, I was motivated enough for the two of us. He was putting in so many hours at the travel agency at the moment, plus there
     was his commute, and when it got to the weekend he just needed to crash. That Sunday I’d happily stuck Post-It notes labelled
     with people’s names on to paper plates and then shuffled them around until exes were separated and embarrassing relatives
     were out of harm’s way. The invites hadn’t even gone out yet, but with the family politics we both had going on I was getting
     an early start; I was not going to leave anything to chance. Dan opened a sleepy eye, nodded and smiled his appreciation at
     the end result.
    Dan had been working so hard because, as we found out pretty quickly, sugared almonds cost cold hard cash. Even with our salaries
     combined the wedding we wanted was going to be a stretch, but he knew how important it all was to me and he was going all
     out to do overtime and boost our funds.
    I stirred a heaped teaspoon of sugar into Chloe’s tea and as I passed it to her saw she was smiling.
    ‘It’s great to see you so happy, J,’ she said, taking the mug. ‘You deserve this, you know. And I know your wedding’s going
     to be spectacular.’ She pulled me into a warm hug.
    As we separated she spotted my to-do list on the counter. ‘White lace basque?’ she exclaimed, then saw her name and looked
     up, brow furrowed.
    ‘Hold on, am I the official wedding-night underwear adviser?’ I watched as a smile spread across her face. ‘Brilliant! You
     know I have to say I
hate
white lace, Jen, far too Bunny Girl … but you, Mrs Yates-to-be, are going to look fantastic in this retro corset I spotted
     online …’

Chapter 3
Alison
    Alison Lovell frowned in concentration as she mixed wax for the candles she was making – trying to ignore the fluffy grey
     muzzle pressing against her side and letting out little whines in an attempt to distract her. George, the