You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Eight

'I've been reading your forum online and I have to say I'm impressed, there's some real enthusiasm being shown by our readers towards this. Just one thing though, I noticed a few comments mentioning you taking a visit to the German Christmas markets that have gained some attention. Now, I'm not going to look at the bank statements tomorrow to find a return ticket to Frankfurt, am I?'

I laugh heartily in response, wishing I could have seen the look on Diane's face when she scanned through the plethora of messages we'd received yesterday and although her tone suggests she's teasing me, I knew her well enough by now.

After working with Diane for the last eighteen months I'm used to all of her little quirks and the woman is a frantic multitasker. For example, I'd bet my life right now that she was currently pacing her office, phone in one hand and a 4kg dumbbell in the other, using these spare five minutes in her day to not just check in with me but to squeeze in a little work out at the same time. She didn't believe in an easy life, so I know for a fact she wouldn't have paused long enough to see that I hadn't actually started the thread. (Though, if I'm being honest to myself, it had piqued my interest and before Isaac and I went out last night I couldn't resist having a little scour on the internet and the results were quite surprising.)

I'd managed to find a deal for flights and a hotel near to a market in Cologne that was just shy of £100, and my fingers had been itching to book it. I mean, there must be a reason people flock from all over the world to visit these markets, and from the pictures I can see why.

They're all absolutely stunning.

You know how when you're a child and you can't help but believe in magic? Well, looking at the images from these places brought that feeling back out in me. The pure aesthetic of the fairy lights draped neatly from the tops of grand historical buildings, handfuls of stalls selling food and gifts in the town square, the look of joy on children's faces as they rode the merry-go-round, all merging to create this rustic, picturesque montage of pure romance.

What I would give to escape London for just a couple of days to soak up the atmosphere.

Hearing an impatient cough on the other end of the line pulls me back to the present and I shake my head gently, trying to remember what she'd just asked me.

Whether I was planning a secret trip to Frankfurt?

'Nooo,' I begin slowly, taking a gulp up of my now lukewarm tea as an internal battle takes place in my head. 'Although-'

'Dorothy.' Her resolute voice cuts me off before I could even state my case and I plonk back down on the edge of my bed, glancing sideways at my laptop screen left open from last night and I shut it with a dejected bang, not wanting to see the temptation for a moment longer.

'Just out of curiosity,' she carries on brusquely and I couldn't help but wince at her tone of voice. 'How in your mind does an article on "budget festivities in London" translate to a weekend break at a German Christmas market?'

'Well . . .' When she puts it like that. 'The flights leave from London . . . and they are quite cheap.'

'Nice try. Now tell me something I want to hear and make it sharpish. I have a meeting with the execs in seven minutes and I don't want to be late.'

'Right, okay. So, aside from planning a trip overseas,' I can't help but remark with a smile on my face, and I earn a jovial harrumph from Diane in response. 'I have actually been quite busy. Me and my flatmates travelled to the outskirts of London a couple of days ago and I got to cut down our own tree at a farm one of our readers recommended.'

'You cut down a tree? With what? Please don't tell me they handed you a weapon!' Diane sounds concerned and I can understand why. Unfortunately for me, I was known as the clumsy one of the office, all because I managed to spill a mug of coffee on the mock-up of our first issue and now I can't seem to shake the stigma.