Arabella?’
‘Yes, I am. Listen, Emily, you’ve got to take over the meeting for me.’
‘What? I can’t do that. They’ll take no notice of me.’
‘Make them take notice of you, then. You’re not exactly an intern.’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll try.’
‘Yes, do try! I should have made you deputy editor years ago.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
‘Yes,’ Arabella sniffed.
‘Are you poorly?’ Emily asked.
‘No, I’m not poorly. I’m distraught. My toad of a husband, Mr David Harrington, the king of the toads, has just left me,’ Arabella said after a short pause. ‘The man is a big fat prize specimen! I’m all over the place, if you must know.’
‘What did you say? He’s left you? David’s left you?’
‘Yes, indeed. We had a massive fight last night and another one this morning. And I nearly trashed the house, I was so damn angry with him. He wouldn’t even look at me, Emily. I said some silly things to him, but I was beyond livid. So he walked out and told me he wasn’t coming back – not ever. And now I’ve cut my arm quite badly on a broken vase. Accidentally, I might add. That impossible man isn’t worth my committing suicide over. You’ll have to hold the meeting for me, Emily.’
‘Right, okay, I can see that. But do you need to go to A&E for stitches?’
‘Look, don’t worry about me. The bleeding is slowing down. I’ve put a nice clean towel on it. It’s not even sore; I think my adrenaline is still working overtime.’
‘Arabella, this is awful. You should get your doctor to have a look at you. How big is the cut?’
‘Emily, there isn’t time for this conversation. Just hold the meeting, choose next month’s cover, and send flowers to our main advertisers in lieu of a lunch with me later on today. And don’t take any nonsense from Jane, by the way. She’s a great stylist but a cheeky madam sometimes – and given half a chance she’d take over the entire magazine. I’ll call you later. Actually, could you come over here as soon as you can and help me tidy up? Could you, sweetheart? I wouldn’t ask, if I hadn’t cut my arm.’
‘Okay, yes, of course I’ll come over. Just you rest, yeah? And if the bleeding doesn’t stop, will you please go to the hospital?’
But Arabella had already hung up.
‘Well, here goes,’ Emily said as she took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy glass door to the office. ‘It seems Arabella has been delayed,’ she said in her bravest voice. ‘She won’t be coming in today. And we can’t postpone this meeting until tomorrow, so I’ve been asked to conduct the meeting and select the next cover. So let’s begin with that, shall we?’
Everyone glanced briefly round the table, as if waiting for an objection. When none came they began to place their cover submissions in front of Emily.
‘Wait a minute. Is nobody else going to say anything?’ Jane was glaring at Emily.
‘Arabella just asked me to do this,’ Emily said.
‘Are you kidding us?’ Jane said angrily, a seventh shortbread finger halfway to her open mouth. ‘You’re actually in charge here? You’re choosing the cover?’
‘Well, yes – I am. You see, the thing is, we have to let the printer have the cover layout by lunchtime today. So let’s see what we’ve got, yes?’ Emily smiled at them all, even though her heart was racing like a train going downhill without any brakes.
‘Now, look here. If Arabella isn’t coming in today then I’m the most senior person present,’ Jane began. ‘I should chair the meeting and make any major decisions that have to be made.’
But Emily bravely ignored her and started flicking through the photographs. She knew only too well that Arabella wasn’t overly keen on Jane’s fondness for modern interiors and typefaces.
‘There are two front runners,’ she said briskly. ‘Personally I prefer the button-maker’s cottage. It’s like something from a fairytale, with all those hundreds of jars of buttons
‘Yes, I am. Listen, Emily, you’ve got to take over the meeting for me.’
‘What? I can’t do that. They’ll take no notice of me.’
‘Make them take notice of you, then. You’re not exactly an intern.’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll try.’
‘Yes, do try! I should have made you deputy editor years ago.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
‘Yes,’ Arabella sniffed.
‘Are you poorly?’ Emily asked.
‘No, I’m not poorly. I’m distraught. My toad of a husband, Mr David Harrington, the king of the toads, has just left me,’ Arabella said after a short pause. ‘The man is a big fat prize specimen! I’m all over the place, if you must know.’
‘What did you say? He’s left you? David’s left you?’
‘Yes, indeed. We had a massive fight last night and another one this morning. And I nearly trashed the house, I was so damn angry with him. He wouldn’t even look at me, Emily. I said some silly things to him, but I was beyond livid. So he walked out and told me he wasn’t coming back – not ever. And now I’ve cut my arm quite badly on a broken vase. Accidentally, I might add. That impossible man isn’t worth my committing suicide over. You’ll have to hold the meeting for me, Emily.’
‘Right, okay, I can see that. But do you need to go to A&E for stitches?’
‘Look, don’t worry about me. The bleeding is slowing down. I’ve put a nice clean towel on it. It’s not even sore; I think my adrenaline is still working overtime.’
‘Arabella, this is awful. You should get your doctor to have a look at you. How big is the cut?’
‘Emily, there isn’t time for this conversation. Just hold the meeting, choose next month’s cover, and send flowers to our main advertisers in lieu of a lunch with me later on today. And don’t take any nonsense from Jane, by the way. She’s a great stylist but a cheeky madam sometimes – and given half a chance she’d take over the entire magazine. I’ll call you later. Actually, could you come over here as soon as you can and help me tidy up? Could you, sweetheart? I wouldn’t ask, if I hadn’t cut my arm.’
‘Okay, yes, of course I’ll come over. Just you rest, yeah? And if the bleeding doesn’t stop, will you please go to the hospital?’
But Arabella had already hung up.
‘Well, here goes,’ Emily said as she took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy glass door to the office. ‘It seems Arabella has been delayed,’ she said in her bravest voice. ‘She won’t be coming in today. And we can’t postpone this meeting until tomorrow, so I’ve been asked to conduct the meeting and select the next cover. So let’s begin with that, shall we?’
Everyone glanced briefly round the table, as if waiting for an objection. When none came they began to place their cover submissions in front of Emily.
‘Wait a minute. Is nobody else going to say anything?’ Jane was glaring at Emily.
‘Arabella just asked me to do this,’ Emily said.
‘Are you kidding us?’ Jane said angrily, a seventh shortbread finger halfway to her open mouth. ‘You’re actually in charge here? You’re choosing the cover?’
‘Well, yes – I am. You see, the thing is, we have to let the printer have the cover layout by lunchtime today. So let’s see what we’ve got, yes?’ Emily smiled at them all, even though her heart was racing like a train going downhill without any brakes.
‘Now, look here. If Arabella isn’t coming in today then I’m the most senior person present,’ Jane began. ‘I should chair the meeting and make any major decisions that have to be made.’
But Emily bravely ignored her and started flicking through the photographs. She knew only too well that Arabella wasn’t overly keen on Jane’s fondness for modern interiors and typefaces.
‘There are two front runners,’ she said briskly. ‘Personally I prefer the button-maker’s cottage. It’s like something from a fairytale, with all those hundreds of jars of buttons
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