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A Not Quite Perfect Christmas
A Not Quite Perfect Christmas

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A Not Quite Perfect Christmas

Язык: Английский
Год издания: 2019
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‘Emma, can we meet for a chat this morning, please? Give Alex a call as soon as you get in.’

Emma took a deep breath. She got on well with Michael, but it was always unsettling to be summoned by the boss. She phoned his PA, Alex, and arranged a meeting for later that morning. Delia returned with her coffee and Emma settled down to read her e-mails and plan her day.

******

On the other side of Manhattan, Lily was complaining. ‘My feet really hurt. And I thought we were supposed to be going shopping, not looking at boring old historical stuff.’

Rachel sighed. ‘You can’t come to New York just for the shopping. You’ve got to have some cultural experiences, haven’t you, Mum?’

‘If you can call it culture,’ said Diana, glancing suspiciously at a man standing on a street corner dressed as a hot dog.

‘Well, we all enjoyed the Empire State Building, didn’t we?’ said Rachel.

Diana and Lily muttered affirmatives. ‘It’s a shame King Kong wasn’t climbing up the outside of it like in that film,’ said Lily.

‘Yes, yes, that is a shame,’ laughed Rachel. ‘Anyway, I think you’re going to like our next stop.’

‘Is it far?’

‘Not too far,’ said Rachel uncertainly, eyeing the street they were crossing.

‘The Apple Store!’ cried Lily. ‘We could buy Granny an iPad! They’re much cheaper here.’

Diana laughed. ‘I struggle to use the telephone, Lily.’

‘No, it’s not the Apple Store but it’s not far away,’ said Rachel, pointing towards a tall shopfront, where two soldiers dressed in red were smiling for photos and ushering excited children through their doors. Its windows screamed, ‘It’s Christmas!’ in the manner of Noddy Holder about to sing his festive hit.

‘A toy shop!’ cried Lily. ‘A really big one! Wait until I tell the boys about this. They’ll be well jell,’ she declared, skipping towards its open doors.

‘Cultural experiences, you say?’ murmured Diana, following her granddaughter through the entrance.

‘This is modern-day culture,’ said Rachel, taking a photograph of Lily next to the toy shop’s soldier she was hugging just a little too tightly.

Diana raised her eyebrows quizzically. ‘Oh, yes?’ she said, watching as a toddler had an impressive textbook tantrum, falling into a pile of rainbow-coloured unicorns.

Lily was skittering left and right like a sausage in a pan, for once unable to speak as she tried to take it all in. She dashed back to Rachel and Diana.

‘Right, I’ve got to get something from Hello Kitty, The Muppets and possibly Paddington. Oh, and there might be some cool American stuff so I’ll have to look at that too. Come on, we’ve got so much to do!’ she cried, leaping from foot to foot.

Diana shook her head but smiled indulgently at Lily as they headed towards the escalator. Rachel nudged her mother. ‘Well, at least she’s got her energy back,’ she whispered. ‘And anyway, who doesn’t like a bit of shopping? Lily, will you look at the size of that panda!’

******

Michael Allen’s pewter-blue eyes were fixed on Emma and to be honest it was making her mouth go a bit dry. If it weren’t for the fact that he was gay, Emma would have had a knee-trembling crush on this man. In fact, sod it; she did have a crush on him. He was a bit Tom Ford with an air of George Clooney and frankly what wasn’t to like in that combination? She almost forgot what she was saying.

‘And so given the success of the first royals’ book, we’re thinking of rolling out the format to other members of the royal family for publication next May.’

‘Okay, good.’ Michael nodded. ‘But let’s be selective, shall we? Harry would be an obvious candidate, I would say.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Emma. Wendell Burke, who was sitting in the chair next to her, gave an expansive yawn.

‘Late night, Wendell?’ asked Michael, bringing his hands together in prayer position.

‘Sorry, Michael,’ said Wendell with a sly smile. ‘I was just up late reading the new Richard Bennett. The guy is Grade A.’ Emma bristled.

‘Oh, yes, this is our new Oprah boy. Isn’t he British, though?’ asked Michael, glancing over at Emma.

Emma swallowed. ‘He is.’

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