Read Online The Vintage Teacup Club by Vanessa Greene - Free Book Online
Authors: Vanessa Greene
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effect was impressive: it was still
me
, but a more glamorous version of me. A push at the door made me jump.
‘
Busy
,’ Chloe yelled, leaning back on it hard.
‘It’s not bad, is it Chlo?’ I said, fidgeting with the boning, ‘although I just can’t see how on earth I’m ever going to eat any weddingcake in it.’
*
Back at my desk, I kept my head down for the last few hours of the day. While the art director who sat nearby talked through with his team what images were needed for the next issue, I sorted through paperwork, responded to emails and helped Zoe with a gigantic pile of filing that had to be done before the office inspection the next day. The highlight of the afternoon was an email from Maggie with a picture of some handmade wedding decorations she’d spotted – vintage maps cut out into strips and made into heart shapes you could string together. By the time the clock on my computer clicked to half past five, I’d finished everything on my to-do list and emptied my inbox.
Zoe stared at me across the desk, faint shadows visible under her dark eyes. ‘Well, go on then,’ she said flatly, tipping her head to indicate the other empty desks. Only Gary, Chloe’s manager, was left, tapping away intently on his computer. ‘No prizes for staying late, you know, Jenny. We’re only still here because we have to be.’ She looked back down at the document she was checking, not waiting for a response. It was Zoe’s way of being sort-of-nice. I picked up my gym bag with a goodbye and walked out of the office’s wide glass doors.
Chloe met me in reception, leaning on the counter and switching from towering heels to flats. She was shoving her work shoes into her handbag when I arrived.
‘Jen,’ she said, flexing her feet in the ballerinapumps as if getting used to the feel of them again. ‘I know we said we’d go to Zumba tonight,’ she caught the suspicious look in my eye and geared up her excuse, ‘but I had to wear these stupid heels for a meeting today and my feet are killing me. Plus it’s such a gorgeous summery evening. How about we go for a drink instead?’
I’d been looking forward to our regular Zumba date, there was nothing like a little booty-shaking to latin rhythms to kick the Monday blues; but Chloe’s wide eyes implored me to let her off the hook just this once. ‘I promise we’ll go next time,’ she said.
‘OK,’ I relented. ‘But I’m going to hold you to that; we’re definitely going on Thursday,’ I said, smiling. ‘I want to be more toned than this for the wedding – even if I do have the corset to hold everything in now.’
‘Fox and Pheasant?’ Chloe suggested, and together we walked out of the air-conditioned
Sussex Living
offices and into the warm evening air. It was only Monday, but the pavement outside the pub opposite, our regular, was already crowded. Charlesworth’s shop and office workers were enjoying the unexpected balminess, white wine spritzers and bottles of Magners in hand. Chloe and I crossed the street and I went into the pub to get a glass of white wine for each of us, while Chloe nabbed an empty bit of bench to sit on.
‘So,’ I said, when I returned from the bar, settling myself on the seat and tucking my unusedgym kit under the table. ‘How was that thirtieth you went to on Saturday?’
‘Ahem, yes …’ Chloe started, wrinkling her nose a little.
I knew that face. ‘Chloe …’ I started, in the schoolmarmish voice that I seemed to adopt whenever we had this conversation.
‘I know, I know.’ She held her hands up. ‘But the men at the party were all such idiots, Jen. It was mainly Nikki’s banker friends down from London. It was like they expected us country girls to leap straight on to hay bales with them at the mere mention of champagne,’ Chloe said, unclipping her hair and raking her hands through her chestnut curls. ‘So when I got a text from Jon at midnight saying come over, I did.’
I raised an
me
, but a more glamorous version of me. A push at the door made me jump.
‘
Busy
,’ Chloe yelled, leaning back on it hard.
‘It’s not bad, is it Chlo?’ I said, fidgeting with the boning, ‘although I just can’t see how on earth I’m ever going to eat any weddingcake in it.’
*
Back at my desk, I kept my head down for the last few hours of the day. While the art director who sat nearby talked through with his team what images were needed for the next issue, I sorted through paperwork, responded to emails and helped Zoe with a gigantic pile of filing that had to be done before the office inspection the next day. The highlight of the afternoon was an email from Maggie with a picture of some handmade wedding decorations she’d spotted – vintage maps cut out into strips and made into heart shapes you could string together. By the time the clock on my computer clicked to half past five, I’d finished everything on my to-do list and emptied my inbox.
Zoe stared at me across the desk, faint shadows visible under her dark eyes. ‘Well, go on then,’ she said flatly, tipping her head to indicate the other empty desks. Only Gary, Chloe’s manager, was left, tapping away intently on his computer. ‘No prizes for staying late, you know, Jenny. We’re only still here because we have to be.’ She looked back down at the document she was checking, not waiting for a response. It was Zoe’s way of being sort-of-nice. I picked up my gym bag with a goodbye and walked out of the office’s wide glass doors.
Chloe met me in reception, leaning on the counter and switching from towering heels to flats. She was shoving her work shoes into her handbag when I arrived.
‘Jen,’ she said, flexing her feet in the ballerinapumps as if getting used to the feel of them again. ‘I know we said we’d go to Zumba tonight,’ she caught the suspicious look in my eye and geared up her excuse, ‘but I had to wear these stupid heels for a meeting today and my feet are killing me. Plus it’s such a gorgeous summery evening. How about we go for a drink instead?’
I’d been looking forward to our regular Zumba date, there was nothing like a little booty-shaking to latin rhythms to kick the Monday blues; but Chloe’s wide eyes implored me to let her off the hook just this once. ‘I promise we’ll go next time,’ she said.
‘OK,’ I relented. ‘But I’m going to hold you to that; we’re definitely going on Thursday,’ I said, smiling. ‘I want to be more toned than this for the wedding – even if I do have the corset to hold everything in now.’
‘Fox and Pheasant?’ Chloe suggested, and together we walked out of the air-conditioned
Sussex Living
offices and into the warm evening air. It was only Monday, but the pavement outside the pub opposite, our regular, was already crowded. Charlesworth’s shop and office workers were enjoying the unexpected balminess, white wine spritzers and bottles of Magners in hand. Chloe and I crossed the street and I went into the pub to get a glass of white wine for each of us, while Chloe nabbed an empty bit of bench to sit on.
‘So,’ I said, when I returned from the bar, settling myself on the seat and tucking my unusedgym kit under the table. ‘How was that thirtieth you went to on Saturday?’
‘Ahem, yes …’ Chloe started, wrinkling her nose a little.
I knew that face. ‘Chloe …’ I started, in the schoolmarmish voice that I seemed to adopt whenever we had this conversation.
‘I know, I know.’ She held her hands up. ‘But the men at the party were all such idiots, Jen. It was mainly Nikki’s banker friends down from London. It was like they expected us country girls to leap straight on to hay bales with them at the mere mention of champagne,’ Chloe said, unclipping her hair and raking her hands through her chestnut curls. ‘So when I got a text from Jon at midnight saying come over, I did.’
I raised an
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