the gorgeous homes she got to photograph for the magazine.
‘I know it’s not fair to compare them with the millionaires of Mayfair. I know it’s not fair to compare them with Dylan’s parents. I know I’m a shallow, selfish, snobbish, mean and cruel cow,’ she said to herself.
Then she thought of the little sliver of empty space at the top of her wardrobe, and it did feel as if she could breathe more easily. She felt that her heart was relaxing a little bit – it didn’t feel quite so squashed any more.
Maybe there really was something Zen and empowering about the simple act of de-cluttering? Maybe it was good for the soul to say goodbye to the past? Maybe it was a good thing to know you could give away the trappings of your past and still survive without them? Maybe you really could wipe the slate clean and start all over again?
And this time you’d be in charge – not your mad parents or your callous ex-boyfriend.
Emily snuggled down under the duvet and closed her eyes.
5. Bosoms and Buttons
Emily brought the tray of coffees over to Arabella’s corner of the office and handed them out to the small group of freelance contributors and in-house staff. The office was stiflingly warm, but if they were to open a window now they might all expire of acute hypothermia within minutes. It seemed as if the snow would never stop falling.
‘I’m sure Arabella will be here any minute,’ Emily said briskly. ‘She’s probably stuck in a traffic jam somewhere. The traffic is a nightmare these days. Can I get anybody a biscuit?’ she added, thinking briefly of Dylan and his chocolate Digestives.
‘Any decent ones, have you?’ Jane asked, yawning. ‘Don’t trouble yourself if it’s just a Rich Tea, mind – I won’t bother with the calories.’
Jane Maxwell could be a right diva when she put her mind to it, but Emily decided to humour her today, just to make the wait for Arabella less stressful than it already was. There was hardly a month went by that Arabella didn’t dream of firing Jane but, really and truly, she didn’t think she could justify it. And something about Jane told Emily and Arabella that Jane wouldn’t go quietly if she did get fired. She’d probably make it her life’s work to ruin the magazine in the courts.
‘She’s quite clearly sex-starved,’ Arabella would say, after every editorial run-in with Miss Maxwell. ‘What that girl needs is the love of a good man.’
And then Emily and Arabella would have a secret giggle at such an outrageously sexist pronouncement.
‘Just so happens I have some lovely biscuits, yes, Jane. One moment, please.’
Emily duly fetched the secret stash of butter shortbread from her desk, and set it on the round table where Arabella held their monthly meetings.
‘Only shortbread ones?’ Jane said, yawning again. ‘I thought you said you had something lovely?’
Jane ate one anyway, Emily noticed. Then she ate another five, licking her fingers loudly. Everyone else flicked politely through the pages of rival magazines. After thirty minutes of fidgeting and clock-watching, mostly by Jane, the mood in the room was distinctly icy – almost as icy as the wind that whipped up and down the street outside. Jane kept saying she had seriously important things to do and that if Arabella was going to be so late today she should have let them know.
‘I’ll just call her,’ Emily said, stepping into the corridor and flicking her mobile phone open. ‘Maybe she’s wedged in a snowdrift somewhere,’ she said to herself as she selected her boss’s private number.
Arabella answered on the first ring.
‘David? David, is that you?’ she said.
‘Arabella, it’s Emily here.’
‘Oh, of course it is – I forgot to look at the caller ID.’
‘Thank heaven you had your phone switched on. Where are you?’
‘I’m still at home, my darling.’
There was a muffled sound as Arabella blew her nose and then sniffed loudly.
‘Are you crying,
‘I know it’s not fair to compare them with the millionaires of Mayfair. I know it’s not fair to compare them with Dylan’s parents. I know I’m a shallow, selfish, snobbish, mean and cruel cow,’ she said to herself.
Then she thought of the little sliver of empty space at the top of her wardrobe, and it did feel as if she could breathe more easily. She felt that her heart was relaxing a little bit – it didn’t feel quite so squashed any more.
Maybe there really was something Zen and empowering about the simple act of de-cluttering? Maybe it was good for the soul to say goodbye to the past? Maybe it was a good thing to know you could give away the trappings of your past and still survive without them? Maybe you really could wipe the slate clean and start all over again?
And this time you’d be in charge – not your mad parents or your callous ex-boyfriend.
Emily snuggled down under the duvet and closed her eyes.
5. Bosoms and Buttons
Emily brought the tray of coffees over to Arabella’s corner of the office and handed them out to the small group of freelance contributors and in-house staff. The office was stiflingly warm, but if they were to open a window now they might all expire of acute hypothermia within minutes. It seemed as if the snow would never stop falling.
‘I’m sure Arabella will be here any minute,’ Emily said briskly. ‘She’s probably stuck in a traffic jam somewhere. The traffic is a nightmare these days. Can I get anybody a biscuit?’ she added, thinking briefly of Dylan and his chocolate Digestives.
‘Any decent ones, have you?’ Jane asked, yawning. ‘Don’t trouble yourself if it’s just a Rich Tea, mind – I won’t bother with the calories.’
Jane Maxwell could be a right diva when she put her mind to it, but Emily decided to humour her today, just to make the wait for Arabella less stressful than it already was. There was hardly a month went by that Arabella didn’t dream of firing Jane but, really and truly, she didn’t think she could justify it. And something about Jane told Emily and Arabella that Jane wouldn’t go quietly if she did get fired. She’d probably make it her life’s work to ruin the magazine in the courts.
‘She’s quite clearly sex-starved,’ Arabella would say, after every editorial run-in with Miss Maxwell. ‘What that girl needs is the love of a good man.’
And then Emily and Arabella would have a secret giggle at such an outrageously sexist pronouncement.
‘Just so happens I have some lovely biscuits, yes, Jane. One moment, please.’
Emily duly fetched the secret stash of butter shortbread from her desk, and set it on the round table where Arabella held their monthly meetings.
‘Only shortbread ones?’ Jane said, yawning again. ‘I thought you said you had something lovely?’
Jane ate one anyway, Emily noticed. Then she ate another five, licking her fingers loudly. Everyone else flicked politely through the pages of rival magazines. After thirty minutes of fidgeting and clock-watching, mostly by Jane, the mood in the room was distinctly icy – almost as icy as the wind that whipped up and down the street outside. Jane kept saying she had seriously important things to do and that if Arabella was going to be so late today she should have let them know.
‘I’ll just call her,’ Emily said, stepping into the corridor and flicking her mobile phone open. ‘Maybe she’s wedged in a snowdrift somewhere,’ she said to herself as she selected her boss’s private number.
Arabella answered on the first ring.
‘David? David, is that you?’ she said.
‘Arabella, it’s Emily here.’
‘Oh, of course it is – I forgot to look at the caller ID.’
‘Thank heaven you had your phone switched on. Where are you?’
‘I’m still at home, my darling.’
There was a muffled sound as Arabella blew her nose and then sniffed loudly.
‘Are you crying,
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