Read Online Fairytale of New York by Miranda Dickinson - Free Book Online Page B

James. Then, suddenly, I could feel a man’s heartbeat, the warmth of his arms around me, his breath in my hair. It was wonderful. I felt… safe. I raised my head from his chest to look in his eyes…At first, I couldn’t make out his features. Then, I recognised him. The feeling of safety dissolved, replaced with a vice-grip of nausea. Suddenly, the scene changed. I was now standing in a garden, facing a group of familiar faces. They were smiling at me. I heard myself speak—voice full of emotion, fighting back tears: ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…’
    I woke with a start. Shafts of moonlight pooled in through the bedroom window. Breathing hard, face wet with tears and perspiration, I sat bolt upright and looked around to regain my bearings. Reaching across to the bedside table, I snappedthe light on. A warm golden glow bathed the features of my room—the antique whitewashed chair by my bed with its flea-market-find patchwork quilt throw, the painting of Bridgnorth that Mum had brought on her last visit, the dark wood chest of drawers Celia had donated when I first moved here—familiar décor soothing my burning eyes. I wiped my brow and forced myself to breathe deeply. Slowly, the hammering of my heart eased. But the nausea sat defiant in my stomach.
    ‘Get a grip, girl,’ I chastised myself. ‘It’s just a dream. It’s gone now—it isn’t real.’
    Well, it isn’t real now, said a voice inside my head. But it was once.

Chapter Five
    ‘Rosie, no! You have to do this!’ Ed insisted, banging down his coffee mug on the counter to emphasise his point. ‘It’s the best potential publicity we’ve had in years. The entire readership of the New York Times —think how many potential customers we could reach.’
    My amazing, fail-safe plan for getting out of Celia’s ‘West Siders’ column was obviously going well…I thought I’d picked the perfect moment when Ed came into work early the following morning. Marnie wasn’t due in for another hour so I figured I could talk Ed round and avoid too many disagreements. Simple—or so, I thought. I’d made him a coffee as usual and then mentioned, so casually that the comment could have carried a Gap label, what I was planning to do. I was already reconciled to the fact that I’d probably face the standard Steinmann Rant but I was certain that even he, eventually, would have to agree with my point of view.
    He didn’t, of course. This wasn’t what I wanted. Not this morning, still unnerved by the dream from last night. I dropped my head behind the battle lines and dug in for a long fight. Taking a deep breath, I began my defence.
    ‘I just don’t see why anyone would want to read about me, Ed. About Kowalski’s—yes, fine—but not about me.’
    Ed’s expression changed from incomprehension to incredulous. ‘What?’ he said, looking at me like I’d just told him the Statue of Liberty had been painted pink. ‘How do you figure that, Rosie?’
    I struggled to find a reply. ‘I…I…just think there are other, more deserving people than me, that’s all…’
    Ed shook his head. ‘Exactly how more deserving? What are you afraid of?’
    I punched my hands onto my hips, my anger rising ‘Nothing. I just—’
    But I didn’t get the chance to finish. Ed had rearmed and was sounding dangerously like Mum. ‘Rosie, you’ve made this store a success. So much so that you’ve single-handedly scored our biggest commission to date with Mimi Sutton. And don’t give me that “we can’t cope with any more big orders” crap. We don’t stop being who we are just because our arrangements are a little bigger. I’ve already told you, Marnie and I are more than happy to branch out. I think maybe it’s time, don’t you? So I don’t know why on earth you think people wouldn’t be interested to read about you…’ His voice trailed off as understanding dawned across his features. His voice was low and conspiratorial when he spoke next. ‘Ah. Yeah, I see