By Sharon Owens
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Tall and narrow, it looked almost regal standing here in its own grounds. Four storeys high, and everything that could be painted white had been: house walls, garden walls, window frames, front door. There was a pretty carriage lamp hanging above the door and a small potted lemon tree on either side. ‘It’s just like a doll’s house scaled up to life-size,’ Emily said suddenly. Perfectly proportioned, beautifully presented and so self-contained, it felt as if the building were alive in some way, and expecting her visit.
The snow on the path outside had been pounded to a slush-coloured blanket. The parking spaces for the flats were just off the main road and, luckily, all the principal roads in Emily’s neighbourhood had been gritted. She said a brief hello to the owner of the hair salon next door. ’ ‘Merry Christmas, Emily. ’ ‘I’m great. ’ ‘Thanks. ’ The Rock & Fairy had become a bit of a fashion destination ever since it had opened for business a year earlier. And quite a few A-list celebrities had been seen gracing the black leather chairs.
After lunch Emily had gone home and relaxed in a bubble bath. And simply daydreamed away the afternoon, imagining Dylan and herself strolling along a beach somewhere with the sun beating down on them. Somewhere very far away from this endless London winter. Then she’d blow-dried her hair into a sleek ponytail, curled her fringe, painted her nails, applied full make-up and swapped her old anorak for a smart denim jacket with a soft pink beret and matching scarf. She carried the rest of the boxes down to her car and loaded them into the boot.
A Winter's Wedding by Sharon Owens