скачать книгу бесплатно
‘It’s just so dull and grey. Christmas is over and I have no money left, and no parties to look forward to.’
‘Ah, and we’re only a week in to it, too.’
‘I know, and that’s even more depressing.’
‘We could have a girlie night in. Needn’t cost more than a bottle of Prosecco.’ In fact, she’d been given a bottle as a Christmas gift – even better.
‘Now you’re talking.’
‘Yes, a movie night. I can get something up on Netflix. Funny or sad?’
‘Not sure. I need some cheering up, I think, but then I do like a good sloppy romance that makes you get the tissues out.’
‘Well, I’ll have a think on it. I’ll get some popcorn in too. We’ll do it properly.’ It sounded fun. They could chat and cosy up. It might just be what Emma needed too.
‘You don’t have any chocolate, do you?’ She could hear the smile in Bev’s tone.
‘Nah, never keep it in.’
They both laughed.
‘I’ve just about finished my Christmas supplies, Em. Well, to be honest, let’s say Pete has just about finished my Christmas supplies. The gorgeous ones you gave us were gone within the day, the Heroes tin has a couple of mini Milky Ways left, and that’s about it.’
‘Do you want a goody bag to go down to the shop with, before the movie? A bit like a pick ’n’ mix?’
‘Oh my, you know me too well, Emma Carter. Can I really? That would be heaven. I get to raid a chocolate shop, drink Prosecco and watch some hunk in a movie, all in one night. That is such a plan. I feel cheerier already, just thinking about it. Thanks, Em.’
‘You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.’
She could spare a few chocolates from the shop; yes, funds would be a little tight for the next couple of months for sure, but right now she had her Christmas takings safely banked, and she could always steer her friend towards the last of the festive favourites. After all, no one would be looking to buy Rudolph chocolate lollipops or Santas for another year now.
‘So, when shall we do it?’ Bev asked.
‘Are you free Friday?’ That was two days away.
‘Yep. I’m sure that’ll be fine. As I say, I have no other plans.’
‘Well then, let’s make it a date.’
‘Definitely. You’re on.’
Friday morning, Emma set to work removing the shop’s Christmas window display. Down came the tinsel, the baubles, and the little Christmas tree, which she decided to repot out at the back. She stood the last chocolate Father Christmas moulded figure on the counter, ready to discount, along with some of the Rudolph lollipops, some white-choc stars and Christmas pud truffles, but decided to leave the fairy lights that ran along the counter and shelves. They would give the place a little welcoming glow.
She had found some pretty yellow witch-hazel blossom flowering on a small tree in her back yard – a sign of spring to come – and put it in an old jam jar which she’d tied a green silk ribbon around and added snowdrops. As customers would be feeling the pinch from Christmas on their waistlines and their pockets, she started to make up mini packs of fudge and truffles to display along with the flowers. Ideal little pick-me-ups and gifts. There were still the occasional holidaymakers about at this time of year, including those hardy ramblers who persevered in all weathers, as well as couples taking shelter at the hotel at the top end of the street.
It had been a quiet day. She’d only seen two people in the shop all day, when a familiar face called in.
‘Hi there! So, the Christmas decs are coming down.’ It was Holly, looking a little morose.
‘Yeah, I always hate this bit … but look, I’m putting some bright yellow blossom out with snowdrops. What do you think? You can help me some more with ideas tomorrow.’
‘That’s really pretty. Do you want me to carry on bagging up the chocolates here? I’ve got a spare half hour. Well, it’s either that or heading back to face my homework. And to be honest, I need a little break. I’m only just off the school bus.’
‘That’d be great … thanks, Holly. How’s school going?’
‘It’s okay. Busy, especially now it’s Sixth Form and you just feel that pressure, you know, to get good A-level results next year. The grades are so important for uni or whatever I decide to do afterwards … agh, I don’t even know what I want to do afterwards.’
‘Just keep working hard, Holly, and you’ll be fine – that’s all you can do.’ That was pretty much her mantra in life at the moment.
‘Yeah. S’pose.’
Em thought back to when she was eighteen. She’d quite enjoyed school, but wasn’t totally sure what she had wanted to do as a career either; teaching had seemed a sensible option, so she had gone off to uni in Durham, enjoyed student life, passed her degree, then taken a PGCE for a year and got herself a teaching post. She’d always loved cooking and specialised in food technology, but not all of her secondary students were that committed, and thought of it as a bit of a ‘dossy’ subject, which could be frustrating. It was fine, though; she got paid pretty well. And she had met Luke when he had started work at the same school a year after her. She probably would have stayed in that line of work had everything not veered off course spectacularly. But then … it really made you think that life was too short to be working away at something you didn’t love.
She wondered for the umpteenth time how Luke would have felt about her becoming a chocolatier.
‘You okay?’
‘Ooh, yep, just in a little world of my own for a minute there. Cuppa?’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Tea okay? I feel quite thirsty.’
‘Great.’
‘I’ll just pop the kettle on.’
She left Holly bagging up packs of truffles and fudge. The young girl was busy tying on ribbons in shades of bright pink, yellow and green, as Emma came back carrying two mugs. ‘Here.’
‘Thanks.’
‘They look pretty.’
Holly was scraping scissors along the ribbons to make the ends curl.
‘The colours will go really well with the blossom in the display. Give it a cheery feel. You really are a ray of sunshine here, Holly,’ Emma added.
Just then the dinging chime of the door went. They both looked up. Holly was already positioned behind the counter, so Emma stood back as a blond-haired young man wandered in. He looked about twenty and she saw him glance at her assistant with a shy smile, before perusing the shelves.
‘Can I help you?’ Holly said, her face blushing pink, nearly matching the bright ribbon in her hand.
‘Umm, well, I’m looking for a gift.’
‘Okay, well, what kind of a gift? Birthday?’
‘No, no, not a birthday, just a general thank you. More of an everyday gift, I suppose.’
‘Okay … well, we can tailor-make gift boxes. You can choose any favourite flavours and then we can put in the number of chocolates you’d like.’
‘Right, yes.’
‘For a lady?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay then. Well, there are truffles, ganaches, fruit flavours, alcohol, nuts – it’s up to you, really. Have a look in the counter here.’
‘Just a mixture would be great. I don’t mind. I’ll let you choose.’
Holly took a medium-sized gold-coloured gift box and a pair of tongs and started taking various chocolates from the counter display, placing them on to the scales. She stopped at eight, saying that would cost just less than five pounds, including the box and wrapping.
‘That’s fine. Can you pop a couple more on, then? Thanks.’ He pulled out his wallet from his trouser pocket.
‘Okay, so that’ll be five pounds eighty altogether. And, if you just give me a second I’ll wrap them properly for you … pink, red, or gold ribbon?’
‘I don’t mind. You choose.’
Emma saw him give Holly another smile.
‘Pink then.’ That was Holly’s favourite colour. Bright, bold and bubbly, just like she was. Holly did her magic with bows and curls, and popped the gift box into a crisp, white paper bag, tucking in one of their Chocolate Shop business cards.
There was a moment as Holly handed back his change when their eyes met. Holly seemed to go a shade pinker. Em had to smile, though she pretended to be busy with her window display again.
The young man left with a polite, ‘Thank you’.
As the shop door closed with a ding, Emma said, ‘Now he was a nice-looking lad.’
‘Yes,’ Holly answered, her tone a pitch higher than normal. She watched the young man walk past the window, gave him a brief, friendly smile, and went back to packing up the gift bags once more.
Emma grinned across at her. It might be a good thing that someone other than the apparently offhand Tom at school had taken her assistant’s attention.
7 (#ulink_a857e7eb-0f2f-5f9a-a6f6-ee53bdaa6a70)
There was a knock at the back door of the cottage and Emma went to answer it and seeing who it was or, more exactly, who it was and what she was wearing, burst out laughing.
‘I’m all set,’ Bev grinned, making her way into Em’s back kitchen.
‘I can’t believe you’ve actually walked around here like that.’
Bev lived a ten-minute walk away across the far side of the village.
‘Yep, well, why not? I drew the line at coming across in my slippers, mind – they’re in the bag, along with a bottle of Prosecco and some cheesy nibbles.’ She offered up her carrier bag to Emma.
‘You look like some crazy bag lady.’
‘Well, thanks.’
Bev stood before her in a full-on zebra-print onesie.
‘Right, well I suppose I’d better go and get mine on, then. Don’t want to be outdone. There’s two glasses ready there on the side so you get the Prosecco popped and poured. I’ll just be one minute.’
‘Can I still raid the chocolate shop like you promised?’
‘Yes,’ Emma shouted from halfway up the stairs. ‘But wait until I get back.’
‘Meanie.’
Em found her giraffe-print onesie on the chair in her bedroom, where she’d left it last night, and stripped off her jeans and jumper combo and pulled it on. She felt cosy straight away. Right, slippers on. So, she was ready for their ‘big night in’.
She arrived back down in the kitchen.
‘Can I fill my goodie bag now?’ Bev’s eyes lit up.
‘Yes, go on then.’ Emma led the way through the door from the back hallway to the shop, and switched on the lights.
‘Yippee!’ came a squeal from behind her.
‘Bev, anyone would think you were four, not forty-odd.’ But Emma was smiling as she spoke.
‘I know, I know. I still can’t quite get over the fact that my best friend actually has a chocolate shop. How did I get that lucky in life?!’
This evening, with it being especially dark outside, Em had to admit it did look rather like a chocolate version of Aladdin’s cave, with neatly piled truffle and ganache gems, gold and silver foil boxes, trails of ribbons and coloured packaging.
‘Here.’ Emma passed her friend a cellophane bag. ‘Go on, fill it. But, if you wouldn’t mind, take a few of those Christmas pud truffles and snowy stars that are left on the counter; that’ll help my stock situation. They’ve got to be eaten in the next week or so before they go out of date.’
‘No worries. I’ll gladly take them off your hands. What do you fancy, Em?’
To be honest, Emma had seen and handled so much chocolate in the past few weeks, she wasn’t sure. But she was always partial to a soft-centred caramel.
‘Just a couple of the chocolate salted caramels – those ones over there. That’ll do me.’
They were soon settled upstairs with a glass of Prosecco in hand, the chocolate goodie bag nestled between them, and their slippered feet propped up on the coffee table.
They’d laughed their way through Bridget Jones’s Baby and cried their way through The Notebook – a classic romantic film and novel that Emma always loved. And, hey-ho, despite the tears, a couple of hours spent with Ryan Gosling was never a bad thing.
‘Blimey, that ending just makes me want to go home and snuggle right up with Pete. But, wouldn’t it be awful for someone to just disappear from your life so suddenly?’ Bev stopped talking and looked across at Emma. ‘Oh balls! Sorry, Em. Films like this must be pretty hard for you, yeah? Like, I know it’s a long time ago and all that, but …’
‘It’s all right.’ Emma smiled sadly, unable to really voice what she felt inside.
‘You must miss that, though, that closeness. Don’t you ever want to go out and find someone? Go on a date? You haven’t been out like that in ages. And well, to put it bluntly, have a good shag.’ The Prosecco had certainly loosened Bev’s tongue. They’d had nearly a bottle each by now. ‘Or maybe you have been, and you’re keeping it all quiet.’ Bev arched her eyebrows.
Emma thought of the hunky man on the beach, but said nothing. That was better kept to herself. Chances were she’d never see him again, and maybe that was for the best. It was probably all illusory. No one had ever come near …
‘Hah, it’s Alan in the village, isn’t it?’
Em put her head in her hands. Then they both howled with laughter, until the tears were streaming again. Alan, bless him, had to be over seventy, with teeth stained brown from years of smoking roll-ups, and a tendency to be a bit of a letch, to say the least. He was no doubt lonely, having lost his wife several years before. But he would always stand just a bit too close in the post office queue, touching your shoulder as he asked how you were, and letting his hand linger just a bit too long, and Em was sure that one time he’d actually patted her arse. But it was so surreptitious, and when she looked round he was already two steps away at the newspaper stand, his head deep in the Northumberland Gazette.
Emma let out a sigh. Would she end up like that? Lonely, desperate for a fondle, watching Ryan Gosling films or The Time Traveller’s Wife on repeat?
