By Sharon Owens
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Additional info for A Winter's Wedding
The lights were on, and she could see a young man busily sawing pieces of wood. He had his back to her, so all she could make out was a very nice bum and a pair of long legs in black combats. The ancient shelves in the shop were only half filled with bric-a-brac. There was a poster in the window. It said: DONATIONS URGENTLY REQUIRED. ‘Good, then,’ Emily said, feeling suddenly quite virtuous and smug. Through force of habit she checked her make-up in the rear-view mirror and then hopped out of the car, fetching her box from the back seat and closing the car door with one elbow.
Emily closed the door again and went to bed. She listened to the radio for company and was glad she hadn’t told Dylan she’d be on her own for Christmas. It was too soon to burden him with her various little family anecdotes, none of them pleasant. Emily was still awake and thinking about Dylan when Christmas morning dawned. She got up, went into the sitting room and switched on the lights on her pretty tree. She made a cup of hot chocolate and listened to a carol service on the radio. She rang her parents in Belfast to wish them a merry Christmas, but nobody answered the phone – even though she let it ring for ages and ages before she gave up.
I’m sure you two will be madly in love again by this time tomorrow, in any case. ’ ‘I don’t know if we will make up. I just keep thinking I should stop dithering and take affirmative action. ’ ‘Is he gorgeous? ’ Emily said, trying to inject some humour into the conversation. ‘He’s about nineteen years of age for starters. He’s got lovely firm arms in that red T-shirt they have to wear. I bet he’d have no trouble whatsoever getting a girl pregnant. I’d love to see him naked, actually. I haven’t seen a naked man in ever such a long time.