Not Quite Perfect. Annie Lyons
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clock has only just struck three o’clock when she booms out her welcome: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to be able to gather you together today to witness a truly exciting event. As most of you will know, we have been working tirelessly to lure Richard to Allen Chandler. I am delighted to announce that he has accepted our offer. Richard, we normally get our authors to sign in blood but for you we will make an exception. Would you do the honours?’
A cheer goes up and Richard bows to the crowd, who laugh. The contract is signed and the photographer ushers Richard and Miranda into the shot. Emma is mortified when Miranda drags her into the frame and is amused to see Jacqui muscling in on the action too. Emma hears her spelling her name to the journalist.
‘That’s Moss, as in Kate Moss. No, no relation but thank you, people often wonder if she’s my sister.’
Emma watches as Joanna whisks Richard over to meet Digby, who embraces him tightly, much to Richard’s surprise. She is feeling a little light-headed due to a combination of early-afternoon champagne and last night’s excesses. She wanders over to the window to take in the view. She is suddenly aware of someone standing next to her and turns to find Richard at her side.
‘Hello, Emma Darcy,’ he says with a smile.
‘Hello, Richard Bennett. Welcome to the family. I see you’ve met Digby.’
Richard chuckles. ‘It was like being hugged by a bear. He seems like a decent chap.’
‘He is. Actually most people here are.’
‘Miranda terrifies me.’
‘So she should.’
‘And what about you, Emma Darcy? Do I need to be scared of you?’
Emma looks him in the eye. ‘Petrified.’
‘That’s what I thought. Well, I shall make sure I wear my thickest body armour to all our meetings. When is our first meeting by the way?’
‘How are you fixed next Monday? I thought we could meet at Kew seeing as it’s the backdrop for so much of the book.’
‘Sounds perfect. By the way, I just wanted to say what a fantastic time I had last night. I think we’re going to work really well together, don’t you?’
She looks up at him. He really is very attractive, just her type in many ways and if she were single then she’d probably be having some pretty inappropriate thoughts about him. As it is, she intends to just enjoy the ride. ‘Yes I do as a matter of fact.’
‘Right, well I have to be somewhere. I’ll see you on Monday. Looking forward to it.’ He kisses her on the cheek before he leaves.
‘Lucky cow,’ says Ella, nudging her friend as they watch him disappear down the corridor.
‘I know,’ laughs Emma, putting an arm around her. ‘I’m a very lucky girl indeed.’
Martin looks at the table and feels pleased with his efforts.
‘Chicks love candles and flowers. Chuck in the champagne and you’ve got yourself a night to remember,’ says Martin’s best friend, Charlie, helping himself to another chocolate digestive.
‘Yes, thank you, mate. With comments like that, I’m starting to feel sorry for Stacey. Now, isn’t it time you buggered off?’
‘I’ll have you know, my Stacey is very well looked after, thank you,’ says Charlie patting his groin.
Martin groans and rolls his eyes. ‘They say romance is dead and now I see they’re not wrong.’
‘Oi, I’m romantic! I’m always buying Stace flowers.’
‘Erm, I don’t think the ones with the orange discount stickers count, mate.’
Charlie shrugs. ‘They’re still flowers, aren’t they? Only mugs pay full price.’
‘Of course they do, Charles. Now, don’t you have a home to go to? Emma’s going to be back soon,’ says Martin, rearranging the flowers on the table like a professional.
‘All right, all right, I get the message. Muff before mates. I know.’
Martin ignores him. ‘See you later, Charlie,’ he says, wresting the biscuit tin from his grasp.
‘See you later, geeze,’ says Charlie, heading for the door.
Martin looks at the table again and checks his watch. Emma should be home in around half an hour so he turns on the oven and goes upstairs to the spare room to print out the details of the weekend away he is planning. He sits back in his office chair and feels happy. Charlie may mock, but he and Stacey are practically married and soon Martin and Emma will be settled too. He gathers up the printed pages and practically skips downstairs as he hears Emma’s key in the door.
‘Well, if it isn’t the sexiest, cleverest, most beautiful editor in the world.’ Martin folds her in his arms and kisses her on the mouth.
‘Mmm, I should almost fail to get a book and then succeed in getting a book more often,’ she says, pulling him towards her. ‘Shall we just skip the dinner and go straight onto pudding?’
‘All in good time, my little sexpot. I have many surprises for you first. Come in, come in.’ He leads her to the kitchen. ‘Look! I bring you good things to eat and flowers, candles and –’ he pulls open the fridge, swiping out a bottle, ‘champagn-a!’ he says in a mock-Italian accent.
Emma’s stomach does a little flip at the thought of her third dose of champagne in less than twenty-four hours but is touched by his kindness. ‘Thank you darling.’
‘And for my final trick –’ continues Martin, fanning out some printed pages in front of Emma like a magician. ‘Ta-da!’
Emma studies them. ‘What’s this? Wow! The Clevedon? For this weekend? That’s amazing. You spoil me!’ she cries, wrapping her arms round his neck.
‘Well, you deserve it,’ says Martin, stroking her face and kissing her tenderly. ‘I love you so much, Em. Now, sit down. Chef Love has a feast to prepare and you, my darling, have champagne to drink.’
Emma sits back in the comfy kitchen chair, propped up with mismatched cushions. She kicks off her shoes and accepts the glass of champagne Martin has poured for her.
‘Here’s to you, Emma Darcy, editor-extraordinaire. Congratulations.’
They knock their glasses together and Martin strides over to the work surface to check on the bubbling pot of bolognese. He lifts the lid and scoops up a spoonful, blowing it before taking a tentative taste. ‘Ooh, hot, hot, but oh so good,’ he grins. Emma laughs and sips her champagne feeling cosy.
‘So, who did you end up drowning your sorrows with last night?’ asks Martin.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, when I last spoke to you, you were on your way home, but you sent me a text at about ten telling me not to wait up.’
The lie is out of Emma’s mouth before she has a chance to stop it. ‘Oh, it was just Ella. We were going to go for one and ended up staying for more. How was the match?’ she asks, changing the subject.
‘It was great. I scored a hat trick,’ grins Martin proudly. ‘I’m top goal-scorer this season. Expecting an England call-up any day.’
‘I’m proud of you, darling. Hopefully that means I’ll get to give up this publishing lark and hang out with Coleen Rooney,’ laughs Emma as the phone rings. She picks it up and hears Martin’s mother’s voice.
‘Emma?’
‘Hello, Daphne. How are you?’ Emma has an uneasy relationship with her mother-in-law to be. She’s never been anything less than civil, but Emma knows she doesn’t really like her. It’s partly due to the fact that Martin is an only child and she’s fiercely over-protective, but she also once overheard